


harry potter fantasizes about guys sometimes

by kyischaotic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (for the most part?), Biting, Copious amounts of love bites, Drinking Games, Flirting, Hair-pulling, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Love Bites, M/M, Neck Kissing, Party Games, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sassy Harry Potter, Sexual Humor, Truth or Dare, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Veritaserum, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyischaotic/pseuds/kyischaotic
Summary: "Was anybody going to tell me that my best friend is into blokes? Or was I just supposed to find out in a game of Truth or Dare myself?"orWhat happens when Ky reads a memefic, decides to write a oneshot based off of it, and then puts way too much genuine effort into writing what has become the longest one-shot they've ever written.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 468





	harry potter fantasizes about guys sometimes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Can Be Found (in a Game of Truth or Dare)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446716) by [OTPshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/pseuds/OTPshipper98). 



> Got my ass in gear and finished this bad boy just in time for Harry's birthday! Mans turned 40 this year?!?
> 
> Also hi, hello, I love my best friend! Thank you love for always being my fic guinea pig and hyping me the fuck up. Your running commentary made me smile endlessly and feel a billion times more confident posting this.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Translated into русский by [marsechelon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsechelon) over on [Ficbook.net](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9795732)

Draco knows he's going to regret it later the moment the Veritaserum-laced Rum and Coke slides down his throat. But there was absolutely no way he would've been able to back out of tonight's game of Truth or Dare with his pride still intact. Especially not after his narrow escape half-way through last week's round of I Have Never. (Leave it to Parkinson and Granger to come up with such a horrid idea as "inter-house unity" parties) 

He finds a sort of solace in the fact that Potter looks about as miserable sitting in the circle of Eighth Years as he feels. But he quickly tears his gaze away before his traitorous brain can start whinging about how unfairly attractive Potter looks in his worn olive green jumper.

He takes a fortifying drink from his glass tumbler as Granger needlessly explains the main game mechanics and how they'll be spinning an empty bottle to pick each person. Parkinson is quick to cut in, however, as she mercifully has enough social awareness to sense the growing impatience amongst her peers.

"Yes, alright, Hermione dear, how about a demonstration instead?" Pansy says, reaching forwards and spinning the bottle with a flourish. Draco nearly laughs when it lands on Potter, whose eyes go comically wide as he chokes on his drink. "Truth or dare, Potter?" She asks, innocent tone at odds with the mischievous glint in her eyes. 

Potter looks as if she's asked whether he wants to be Avada Kedavra'd or Crucio'd. "Truth...?" is his hesitant response. He grimaces when Pansy's mouth splits into a wolfish grin.

"Seeing as how we all now know you're a bisexual disaster..."

"He's what?!" Weasley sputters as Potter's face goes bright red. Draco barely stops himself from asking the same thing, thoughts kicking into overdrive at this new information. He can't help wondering what _else_ he missed by leaving last week's game early.

"Jumping right in, are we?" Blaise comments with a cackle. "This should be good."

"Ever rub one out fantasizing about one of the _strapping_ young men in our year?" Pansy asks as casually as if she's asking what he had for breakfast this morning.

"Well, er, yeah?" is his eloquent response, flush deepening.

"Was _anybody_ going to tell me that my best friend is into blokes? Or was I just supposed to find out in a game of Truth or Dare myself?" Weasley asks, again gaining no response apart from a swift punch to the shoulder from Potter.

"Well, I don't fantasize about _you_ ," Potter says grimly, the bottle already spinning in front of him as he seems desperate to shift everyone's attention away from himself. 

Against all the odds, the bottle lands back on Pansy, who laughs. "Let's have a dare then, shall we?"

Harry frowns, seeming to have forgotten that the game entails coming up with truths and dares as well. "Er...I dare you...to sing Hoggy Warty Hogwarts like you're Celestina Warbeck."

"Tame," Pansy says with a disappointed pout before standing and striking a pose that's undeniably Celestina-esque. One rousing rendition of Hoggy Warty Hogwarts later, and Pansy is curtsying to enthusiastic if perplexed applause.

Draco can't help but commend Potter internally for shifting everyone's focus so seamlessly. Well, _almost_ everyone's. _His_ whirling thoughts seem to be stuck on an endless loop of... 

_Potter is bi. Potter fantasizes about blokes. POTTER. IS. BI. AND. FANTASIZES. ABOUT. BLOKES. IN. OUR. YEAR. POTTER IS BI POTTER IS BI POTTER IS BI POTTER IS_

He curses his inattentiveness when Blaise elbows him, gleefully informing him that the bottle has landed on him.

_Fuck._

Draco _really_ doesn't like the way Pansy is currently looking at him, Blaise's conspiratorial glee mirrored in her eyes.

"What'll it be, love?" Pansy asks, and it's like a death sentence.

If he picks truth, then she could easily expose his absolutely-not-a-crush on a certain Gryffindork. _WHO HAPPENS TO BE BI!_ a traitorous voice in his head can't help pointing out. But Merlin only knows what horrible dare that cow might come up with. If previous games of Truth or Dare have taught him anything, it's that Pansy's dares are _legendary_ and should not be taken lightly.

Accepting his fate, Draco downs the last of his drink, knowing he'll need it to survive whatever god awful plan Pansy has up her sleeve. He puts on his best 'bored' expression, looks her straight in the eyes, and says, "Dare," with all the nonchalance his pureblood breeding can muster.

"Ooo, now _this_ should be interesting," Millicent cackles.

"Been nice knowing you, Malfoy," Theo says solemnly.

"Say hi to my step-dads, will you?" Blaise adds with a grave shoulder clap.

"Your support truly warms my cold, dead heart," Draco replies, holding a hand over his chest and wiping away an imaginary tear.

"Oh _hush_ all of you," Pansy says with a tsk, though clearly enjoying herself far too much. The other occupants seem to quickly grasp the danger of a dare from Pansy, based on the extreme response from the other Slytherins.

"I dare you to..." Pansy takes an excessive amount of time to mull over her options, roving gaze considering each person around the circle. When her eyes land on Potter, she pauses, contemplative pout morphing into an evil grin. "...give our lovely Savior here a love bite!" She finishes sweetly.

The response is instantaneous, with most of the circle breaking out into hysterical laughter after bearing witness to over six years of the famous Potter vs Malfoy rivalry.

"Oh," is Potter's strangled response. At his side, Weasley looks equally horrified on behalf of his best mate.

"Articulate as ever, I see," Draco says dryly, placing his drink carefully on the ground before standing up on embarrassingly wobbly legs. He feels as if he's just been shoved down a flight of stairs, his stomach doing about eighty somersaults in the short time it takes to cross the circle.

"And he can't heal it afterwards!" Pansy jumps in, resulting in a round of giggles from the circle.

Potter looks alarmed. "You know, I was under the impression dares were supposed to embarrass the person _being_ dare-" The words die in his throat as he seems to realize how close Draco has gotten.

"Let's get this over with quickly, shall we?" Draco cuts in before Potter can say anything more stupid. He takes a moment to consider at least ten different ways he could murder Pansy in her sleep. Then, with as much grace as he can muster, he settles down onto his knees in front of Potter.

"Right, yeah," Potter answers faintly, a dark flush beginning to creep up his neck and dust his cheeks. Draco pointedly tries _not_ to think about how bright red his own face surely is by now.

Draco's legs immediately start to cramp up from the awkward position, but he stubbornly refuses to touch more of Potter's body than is absolutely necessary. He settles his hands on either side of Potter's crossed legs, studiously avoiding his gaze. Someone who sounds suspiciously like Finnigan wolf-whistles at them, causing another round of giggles to pass around the circle.

Waving goodbye to any ounces of sanity he had left, he leans forward and dips his head down, figuring the neck is as good of a place as any to place a "love-bite" on his ex-arch-nemesis. (Now _there's_ a sentence he never expected to pass through his mind)

He doesn't think about how intoxicating Potter smells this up-close. Or how Potter tilts his head almost imperceptibly to give him better access.

He doesn't think about how light-headed Potter makes him feel, instead choosing to blame it on the copious amounts of alcohol wreaking havoc on his system.

He doesn't think about the catch in Potter's breath when his lips finally meet skin. Or how he can feel the hammering of Potter's heart when he finds a pulse point.

He doesn't think about how one wrong move could have him toppling over on top of the idiot in front of him. Or how he has to grip the carpet, so his hands don't wander and touch what isn't his.

He doesn't think about how long he's fantasized about, longed for, _ached_ for this.

When he finally allows himself to take the skin gently between his teeth, one of Potter's hands shoots forward and grasps his bicep. It manages to simultaneously steady him and throw him wildly off balance.

 _Merlin, leave it to Potter to go and bulldoze straight through the wall I tried so hard to put up between us._ Draco thinks irritably, twisting his hands further into the carpet before they get any brilliant ideas.

He becomes vaguely aware of the fact that Potter doesn't seem to have breathed since he started the kiss, and he wonders if this is affecting Potter as much as it is him. But just as he begins to ponder the likelihood of Potter passing out on him, he lets out a controlled breath that skates warmly across the side of Draco's face.

Draco barely suppresses a shiver.

Slightly emboldened by this seemingly positive reaction, Draco covers the recently bitten skin with his tongue, soothing the irritated skin before tugging at it with his teeth again. The fingers around his bicep tighten, and Potter seems to be holding his breath once more. Draco feels like he should thank him, not sure how he'd handle his breath on him again, let alone any of the noises the prat seems to be struggling not to make.

He determinedly doesn't think about the heat that coils in his stomach at the thought of Potter making _those kinds of noises_ because of something he did. And he _definitely_ doesn't let it stroke his ego, seeing as how if just a hickey is affecting Potter this much, Merlin knows what kind of noises he'd make if they-

His rising panic at the prospect of showing any signs of enjoying this himself keeps him from risking entertaining those thoughts any further. _It's just a dare. Nothing more._ He reminds himself firmly. _Don't go getting your hopes up only to have them crushed by Scarhead of all people._ But the validity of that first statement soon begins to crumble as Potter's previously-unoccupied hand snakes its way around his neck, calloused fingers tangling themselves in the silky hair at his nape.

Draco's brain ceases all intelligent functions, supplying _OH FUCK, OH SHIT, HIS HAND IS IN MY HAIR, AND EVERYONE IS WATCHING, AND I NEED TO PRETEND IM NOT ENJOYING THIS AT ALL COSTS_ rather unhelpfully.

 _Fuck it, if Potter's going to play dirty so am I_ Draco thinks, not caring how petty, childish, if not downright ridiculous it sounds. Rounding up any remaining brain cells he has left, he refocuses his energy on Potter's neck. He alternates between biting, licking, and sucking until he's positive it's going to leave a mark that'll last at _least_ a week.

Finally, Draco pulls away, blowing cold air on the mark as a finishing touch just because he can. He watches, gratified as Potter shivers, and breaks out in goose flesh. Before he can think better of it, he lifts his gaze to meet Potter's, and Merlin, he's so fucked. The picture of a slightly breathless Potter sporting a bright red love bite is one he's not soon to forget.

"Blimey," Weasley says, leaning forward to get a good look at the very obvious hickey. Seeming to remember where he is, Potter snatches his hands back and fights to calm his breathing.

"I don't think I want to know," Potter says with an embarrassed groan, as a cackling Pansy hands him a small handheld mirror. He looks in the mirror then fixes Draco with a scandalized expression. " _Christ_ , Malfoy, no one said you had to make it that _dark_." 

Draco can hear snorts from around the circle as the other Eighth Years catch a glimpse. "No one said you had to go and yank my hair out either," he shoots back petulantly.

"Oh fuck off, I didn't yank it-" 

"And what were you trying to do, strangle my arm?!"

"It's not my fault if you have spaghetti noodles for arms!"

"Sp- _spaghetti noodles_!?"

"Besides, if you'd just sat down like a normal person, I wouldn't have had to make sure you wouldn't fall on me!"

"I was balancing just fine on my own!"

Seamus groans heartily. " _Merlin_ , get a room! _Some_ of us still have a game to play." Draco and Potter both whip their heads around, startled by the interruption.

"Uhh, right."

"Whatever."

Draco stands, ignoring his protesting legs and alcohol ridden body that insists on making his task much more difficult to execute smoothly. He snatches the bottle of rum from an indignant Seamus before unsteadily making his way back to his spot in the circle. Once he's settled on the floor safely, he refills his glass and immediately knocks it back. The rum burns down his throat but does nothing to get rid of the squirmy feeling in his stomach.

"Just spin the bloody bottle, Malfoy, we'll never get through a full round at this rate," Theo groans dramatically.

"Yes, alright, keep your knickers on," Draco says, waving a dismissive hand and reaching forward to spin the bottle.

"Think I'm gonna go ahead and clock out for the night actually," Potter says to Weasley in a way Draco knows was meant not to draw attention to himself. Unfortunately, tactics like that have never seemed to work on Draco, who finds himself picking out his voice anyway.

"You sure, mate? We only just started," Weasley asks, confusion mixing with mild concern.

"Think double Potions wore me out a little more than usual," Potter covers with a half shrug and a self-deprecating grin. Weasley takes the bait, nodding with a sympathetic grimace as Potter stands to leave. "I'll see you at breakfast, yeah?"

"Truth!" Someone says impatiently, and Draco drags his attention back to the game. He fishes around for a decent question to ask, finding the source of the voice to be Parvati Patil.

"Ah, Parvati, love, fancy anyone in the room then?" Draco asks, kicking himself for not being more creative. The part of his head screaming at him to follow Potter makes it a tad bit harder to concentrate on a game he already couldn't give two shits about.

"Parkinson," She blurts out, face going red and covering her mouth quickly. A short glance at Pansy tells him she wasn't expecting that answer either.

"Oh?" Pansy says, caught between surprise and interest.

"Right, I've got to take a leak, so if you lovely people will excuse me," Draco says to no one in particular, already beginning to regret his decision as he struggles back onto his feet. He knows his friends are sharp enough not to buy it, but he figures it's good enough no one else except perhaps Granger will pick up on the blatant excuse to follow after Potter.

"Don't fall in," Blaise calls after him on instinct.

"Up yours, Zabini." Draco shoots him a two-finger salute then carefully makes his way towards the hallway that just so happens to have the men's loos on one side, and the dorm rooms Potter likely retreated to on the other.

Granted, he does actually need to take a piss, so he hangs a left towards the communal bathroom. Fully intending to also take this time to figure out what the ever-loving _fuck_ he thinks he's about to do, he nearly jumps out of his skin when Potter chooses that exact moment to leave the bathroom.

There's a moment of silence as they stare dumbly at each other. Potter sways slightly in the doorway but doesn't make any moves to keep walking.

"If you don't want me to piss on you, I'd suggest moving out of my way Potter," Draco says, immediately resorting to picking a fight because it's safer than thinking about how the air suddenly feels thicker.

"Right, sorry," Potter stumbles, pulling an odd face at the unexpected crudeness of Draco's phrasing. He steps into the hallway, and Draco nearly trips over his feet in his haste to get inside.

Once inside, Draco leans back against the closed door, taking a moment to compose himself before finding a stall and doing his business. For a second, it had looked like Potter might follow him back in, but he clearly decided against it. Draco shudders at the thought of being confined in a bathroom with Potter for a second time. 

He takes his sweet time washing his hands thoroughly, all the while his head screams that _Potter is getting away!_ When there's no other reasonable excuse left to delay leaving the bathroom, Draco steels himself and walks back out into the hallway. His stomach gives a not-entirely-unpleasant leap when he spots Potter leaning awkwardly against the opposite wall. Potter's head jerks up, he takes a step towards Draco but seems to stop himself from coming any closer.

Draco wants to tell him to piss off. He wants to insist that he's straight actually, thank you very much, and that Potter shouldn't go getting any ideas on the contrary. But he can still feel the Veritaserum at work, and the longer he stares, the more he just wants to take the prat by the jumper and snog him against the bloody wall.

Draco sighs heavily. "Potter. I'm drunk, exhausted, and am one wrong move away from emptying the entire contents of my stomach all over this lovely floor. So if you would kindly spit out whatever it is you want to say, then we can both be on our merry ways."

"Oh, well, I just realized I never properly apologized to you," Potter says honestly, looking confused for a second before he seems to remember he drank Veritaserum a relatively short while ago. Of all the idiotic things Draco expected him to say, that certainly wasn't one of them. He wonders if Potter, too, has found himself reminded of that nightmarish day in their Sixth Year.

"Did you now?" Draco asks, marvelling at the fact that Potter thinks now is the perfect time to talk about their past.

"I really am sorry, for what it's worth. I regretted it before I even finished casting that god-awful curse. I was so _stupid_ , I didn't even know what it did but I still-" 

A quiet but genuine "I know..." slips out before Draco can stop it.

Potter looks shaken as he digests this statement. "Sometimes, I find myself imagining how different things could've been if I'd just talked to you instead. If I could've saved you," He continues, swallowing thickly and looking about ready to kick himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut.

"Look, I'm not some charity project for you to use to fulfil your saviour complex. I didn't need your pity then, and I certainly don't need it now," Draco snaps, feeling stung and far too vulnerable as what he refuses to believe are tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. 

He wants to argue and demand that a "sorry" doesn't make up for almost _killing_ him. He wants to punch him in the jaw then kiss him, so he shuts his stupid mouth. Instead, his tone softens, and he adds, "And I think you and I both know I wouldn't have listened to you anyway."

The following silence is suffocating, but Draco's legs refuse to budge no matter how badly he urges them to let him run away. When Potter lifts his gaze and meets Draco's, he's taken aback by the intensity of his eyes from this proximity. It's only now that he realizes he must've stepped toward Potter at some point, leaving less than a metre between them. 

He can feel words beginning to form in his mouth and only hopes he's able to escape from this exchange with some of his dignity still intact. "I never blamed you for it, you know. After all the awful things I did that year...I thought I rather deserved it." The Veritaserum might as well have shoved its hand in his chest and ripped his heart out.

He can hear Potter's sharp intake of breath, and it takes every ounce of his remaining willpower not to bolt right then and there. Potter must sense it because he's quick to grab his arm and hold him in place, pinning him with his determined gaze. "No, you didn't. You didn't have a choice."

"That doesn't change the fact that I still hurt people!" He fires back, fighting to keep his volume low and hating the way his voice wavers.

"I hurt people too, we all did," Potter says stubbornly, grip tightening around Draco's arm.

"Yes, but you're the fucking hero! The stupid, insufferable, righteous, _infuriatingly attractive_ hero!" It takes a second for Draco's brain to catch up to the words coming from his mouth. When it does, he wants to bash his head against the wall, silently vowing to never drink alcohol or Veritaserum ever again. 

It's another few seconds before Potter seems to process it as well, retort dying in his throat. His face flushes beautifully, but then his mouth twists into a teasing grin. " _Infuriatingly attractive_?" He repeats slowly, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Draco bites his tongue, but it's no use. He takes another step forward, voice barely above a whisper. "You bloody well heard me."

"Well, I dare say you're quite _infuriatingly attractive_ yourself, Malfoy," Potter murmurs, bringing his other hand up to wrap around the back of Draco's neck. 

His self-preservation entertains the idea of shoving Potter away and making a break for the safety of his dorm room. His hands even get as far as grabbing the front of Potter's jumper. But when he goes to push him, his own body follows right along with him until Potter's back meets the wall with a satisfying thud.

He's too close, and he knows he's treading dangerous waters. But the longer he stares into Potter's eyes, alight with desire and silent challenge, the less any of that seems to matter. They're close enough now Draco can feel Potter's warm breath against his lips when he cheekily says "You planning to kiss me properly this time or what?"

"Yes, shut up." is all Draco manages to get out before he captures Potter's mouth with his own, swallowing any further taunts. 

Their first kiss is messy and uncoordinated, all desperation and want and slick heat. It's pounding heartbeats and dizzying electricity, too much and not nearly enough all at once. They break apart for what can't be more than a few seconds, their ragged breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent hall. But before Draco can start second-guessing himself, Potter is pulling him right back in, though gentler this time. 

Their second kiss burns all the way down Draco's throat and coils warmly in his stomach, better than any scotch or Firewhiskey he's ever tasted. It's intoxicating, every nerve in his body alive and crackling with energy. 

The hand at Draco's neck trails up to cradle his jaw, tilting his head just-so to deepen the kiss. Potter lets out a contented sigh, and Draco can feel him smile softly against his lips. Draco uses this opportunity to swipe his tongue along Potter's bottom lip, drawing a quiet gasp from him as he readily opens his mouth to grant him access.

Potter's other hand tangles in Draco's hair as he languorously allows Draco to explore his mouth. Meanwhile, Draco's hands move entirely of their own accord, releasing their death grip on Potter's jumper and sneaking under the hem to find warm skin. The muscles in Potter's stomach jump at his cold touch, but Draco can't find it in himself to feel much remorse. Especially not when Potter practically groans "Fuck yes, want your hands all over me."

Draco is more than happy to oblige, thumbs grazing teasingly along hipbones where too-large trousers hang tantalizingly low. Potter's restraint seems to finally dissolve at his touch, tongue returning the exploration with fervour. He leaves Draco reeling as he manages to simultaneously be compliant yet characteristically demanding, neither him nor Draco ever seeming to get the upper hand.

"Want you...wanted this for so long," Draco murmurs against Potter's lips, silently horrified by the admission.

"Then have me," is Potter's straightforward response, forcing Draco to meet his molten gaze.

"Fuck, Potter," Draco says, those three words shooting straight to his quickly hardening cock.

"If you want," Potter teases. "Though if you're gonna stick your prick in my arse, the least you can do is start calling me Harry," He adds, dragging him closer until their bodies are almost flush.

"In your dreams, Potter," Draco says because he can't help arguing with him, proximity making him dizzy with need.

"Constantly," Pot- oh fuck it, _Harry_ says instead of rising to the bait, once again purposefully taking Draco's statement as a question.

Draco's body burns at the thought, imagination quick to summon a mental image of Harry hard, panting, and splayed across his four-poster bed with the curtains tightly drawn. Desperately trying not to make any noise as he strokes himself, 'Draco' falling from his lips like a prayer.

It's with a great deal of effort he drags his wayward thoughts back to the present, focusing instead on the very-much-so-real Harry in front of him. Draco kisses him before he can say anything equally idiotic in return, hands sliding up Harry's sides and splaying across his ribcage on either side. 

He finds a strange amount of comfort in the expansion and deflation of Harry's lungs beneath his fingers; in the feeling of Harry's body against his: solid, warm, real, _alive_.

One of Harry's hands drops to Draco's hip, fingers gripping flesh and nails digging in possessively. The other pulls at Draco's hair, tugging his head forward towards Harry's shoulder and causing pleasant tingles to shoot through his scalp despite the slight sting of pain.

Draco is momentarily confused by the action until he feels Harry's lips ghost up his neck. He shivers when Harry's lips come right up to his ear, murmuring "It's only fair I return the favour, yeah?" 

Draco lets out an embarrassing whimper when Harry takes his earlobe gently between his teeth. But Harry only stays there for a moment before he's dipping his head back down. He starts planting feathery kisses all along Draco's jaw then neck, torturously light and never staying in one place too long. 

Draco is about ready to turn his head and tell Harry to hurry it the fuck up. But Harry seems to sense this and merely tightens his grip on Draco's hair to hold his head in place. Draco ignores the implications of how said action has his cock stirring with interest.

When Harry finally draws skin between his teeth, Draco thinks he might cry with relief. Harry alternates between kissing, sucking, and biting, all the while keeping the pace frustratingly slow. Then he breaks away from the kiss for a moment, whispering "Closer..." and who's Draco to deny him such a simple request?

Closing that final agonizing gap, they gasp together when their clothed cocks graze against each other. Pressing Harry against the wall with the full length of his body now, Draco slides one of his thighs into the space between Harry's legs.

He can't recall a time he's been more turned on in his _life_. It's one thing, Draco thinks, knowing this is affecting Harry as much as it's affecting him. But it's another thing entirely _feeling_ proof of the fact in the hardness now pressing against his thigh.

Draco gives an experimental roll of his hips, and _Merlin_ no amount of fantasizing could've ever done the real thing justice.

" _God_ ," Harry groans against his neck.

"Not sure I'd go as far as to call me _that_ ," Draco teases breathily.

"Pompous bastard," Harry says, voice strained as Draco presses his knee against him.

"Your words wound me, truly," Draco sighs dramatically, earning him a sharp bite to his neck in retribution. "Must you maul my neck, Potter?" He asks, slightly scandalized. He can only imagine how dark the marks on his neck will be and silently curses Harry for having darker skin.

" _Harry_. And besides, I think you rather like the idea of parading about with these tomorrow," Harry says cheekily, running a finger along the bitemarks then digging into one with his fingernail. "You do, don't you?" The little shit adds, meeting Draco's gaze with an innocent look that has Draco swearing internally. 

"Yes," Draco can't help answering, his face heating once more as he stubbornly holds their eye contact. "I want them to know who put them there, and I want them to know it was me who marked their precious Saviour. I want them to know you're _mine_." He punctuates the last word with another slow roll of his hips.

"Fuck yes," Harry gasps, dragging Draco's mouth back to his and claiming it hungrily. Greedy hands roam all over Draco's body before gripping his arse, encouraging the achingly slow grind of his hips. With the next thrust, he guides Draco's hips to a slightly different angle, moaning "Yes, right there, feels so good."

Needing to feel closer, Draco slides his hand down Harry's arse to the back of his thigh, lifting his leg to wrap around his hips. His other hand makes its way up the front of Harry's torso, caressing the toned planes before gently pinching one of his nipples. Harry's head falls back against the wall, his eyes fluttering closed at the mix of sensations. 

Merlin, Draco could listen to Harry's answering weak moans all night, but then his ears register a group of voices from his right. He suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he and Harry are in a _very public_ hallway, and that those voices are getting closer. 

Seeming to sense that Draco has pulled away, Harry opens his eyes and fixes him with a confused look. His eyes widen when he too seems to notice the approaching voices and becomes aware of their quite compromising position. But then, with a devilish smirk, he shrugs and drags Draco back in for a languid kiss. 

For a second Draco is horrified, but when he starts to recall things he said not five minutes ago, he feels quite ridiculous for it. 

It's not long before an anguished "Fucking hell mate!" sounds from down the hall. Harry snorts as they once again break apart, although his vice grip on Draco keeps him from moving away.

"What was that, Ron?" Harry asks innocently, turning to address Weasley and his entourage.

Draco can feel his cheeks burning, but he turns to look as well, fixing Weasley with a self-satisfied smirk. His affronted expression, however, has Draco struggling to maintain his composure. 

Hermione, Pansy, and plenty of others open their mouths to say something but are cut off by Weasley. " _Not_ that I didn't see this coming!" He defends himself quickly.

"You finally dating then?" Seamus cuts in with a smirk.

Harry turns to Draco. "Dunno, _are_ we dating now?" He asks, and Draco knows he's enjoying this way too much.

"I'd bloody well hope so," Draco says, flicking Harry on the cheek.

Harry turns back to Seamus. "Yeah, we're dating," He says with a besotted grin that does ruinous things to Draco's stomach.

After the initial shock sets in, most of the other eighth year students shrug and continue walking back to their rooms (or stumbling in the case of those who are significantly more inebriated). Draco thinks he catches a "Use protection!" from a passing Seamus and Dean, and an "About time!" from Pansy and Blaise.

"Just- For the love of Merlin, you two couldn't have picked a less public place to finally shag?" Weasley bemoans incredulously.

"Oh stop it," Hermione says with a snort, smacking him gently on the arm. Draco realizes he doesn't think he's ever seen her drunk before.

"C'mon 'Mione, I mean, the thought of him _dating_ the ferret is nightmare fuel enough," He says with an exaggerated shudder before he slings an arm around her and moves to walk past them.

"Your support is heartwarming as ever, Weasel," Draco says dryly.

"Yeah, yeah, just know who you'll have to deal with if you hurt him, alright?" Weasley throws over his shoulder, though more out of duty as Harry's best friend than with any actual malice.

"We love you and support your decisions, Harry!" Hermione calls over her shoulder, probably a little louder than necessary.

"I know, Hermione!" Harry responds with a laugh.

When the final few stragglers have entered their dorm rooms, Harry fixes Draco with a roguish grin. "Well, suppose that could've gone a lot worse."

"Half of them were drunk enough they probably won't even remember it come tomorrow," Draco says with a snort.

"Gods, don't remind me, I'm gonna have the worst hangover," Harry groans, thunking his head against the wall. "Ow."

"Play nice, and perhaps I'll share my homebrewed hangover potion," Draco teases. "Doesn't even taste like troll bogeys like that store-bought rot."

"We've hardly been dating an hour, and already you're spoiling me," Harry says with a laugh. "Though I suppose I should expect nothing less being with a Malfoy."

"I don't _have_ to share, you know," Draco says petulantly.

"Yeeaaah, but you will."

"If only to keep you from ruining my Saturday with your whinging."

"Sure, Draco," Harry says around a smile, closing his eyes once more.

"Right then, it won't do to have you fall asleep in the middle of the hallway," Draco says resignedly.

"Taking me to _bed_ , are you?" Harry says mock-flirtatiously, pulling him in for a kiss that leaves him wanting.

"Much as I hate leaving things unfinished..." Draco murmurs, breath catching before he lets it out in a dramatic sigh. "I don't think either of our roommates would much appreciate that," He finishes, mouth quirking into a rueful smirk.

"I hate when you're right..." Harry says with a barely concealed pout.

"Well, I'm afraid that's something you'll just have to get used to," Draco says matter-of-factly, stepping away and pulling Harry in the direction of his room.

"Go out with me," Harry says suddenly, causing them to stop much to an exhausted Draco's dismay.

"I'm sure we already established this," Draco ventures, genuinely confused.

"On a date, you dingus." Harry pokes him in the shoulder. "Hogsmeade? Tomorrow? Meet up here, say, eleven?"

"As if you'll be dragging your sorry arse out of bed any earlier than noon," Draco says with a pointed look. Harry opens his mouth to retort, but at Draco's raised eyebrows, he closes it again, looking put out. " _If_ , however, you asked if I wanted to pop down to Hogsmeade for a late lunch tomorrow, I just might be inclined to say yes," He adds hastily, and the giddy smile he receives in return effectively turns his legs to jelly.

" _Would you like to pop down to Hogsmeade with me for a late lunch tomorrow?_ Say, two?" Harry asks redundantly, a giddy smile breaking through his serious façade.

"Yes, alright, you insufferable dolt," Draco says as if it brings him great pain to do so. As if his heart isn't beating a mile a minute. As if his stomach hasn't done about a million barrel rolls in the span of a few seconds. 

As if he's not about to lay awake all night hopelessly wishing it was two o'clock already like some _lovestruck Hufflepuff_.

They make it to Harry's door first for which Draco is silently grateful, not trusting his ability to resist dragging Harry into his room right along with him. He's more than happy to put up a few privacy charms and let Blaise suffer. But the mere thought of Weasley being in the same room is a mood-killer and a half (no matter how much he might enjoy doing it just to spite the redhead).

Harry grabs the doorknob but doesn't twist it just yet. Instead, he turns back to face Draco, who's horrified to find himself feeling terribly wrong-footed all of a sudden. _His eyes really are the most beautiful shade of green, aren't they?_ Draco's brain is effectively reduced to mush, leaving him floundering for something remotely intelligent to say.

Taking pity on him, Harry reaches out for his hand and tugs him forward. "Get over here and give me a goodnight kiss, you numpty," Harry says, besotted grin making a brilliant comeback and demolishing any hope Draco had of forming coherent thoughts, let alone comprehensible words. Luckily, that becomes less of an issue as Harry seems content to claim his mouth with his own instead.

Draco's never been one to want to simply kiss somebody for hours, but he's beginning to come to terms with the fact that Harry has been, and will always be, the one exception to most things in his life.

The kiss is laden with desire and promises of things to come. Ending much too soon for either of their likings. It's with a gargantuan amount of effort Draco pulls himself away from Harry, though they remain joined at the hands for a moment.

"Goodnight, Draco," Harry says softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Goodnight, Harry," Draco replies, causing Harry's smile to widen at the use of his first name. He squeezes his hand back, letting himself stall for the slightest of moments. Then finally he lets go and turns to walk down the hall.

"Two o'clock, don't forget!" Harry stage whispers.

Draco waves him off, though he can't help muttering "Wouldn't dream of it..." under his breath. When he makes it to his door, he takes one last glance back. Harry appears to have sagged against the door, open expression one of smitten disbelief. When Harry's eyes dart to meet his, Draco feels himself flush as if he's just been caught seeing something he shouldn't have.

Harry glances at his door, glances back to nod solemnly at him, then twists the knob and faces his redheaded doom. 

By the time Draco snaps himself out of his daze, he's not sure whether the wriggling in his stomach is because of Harry or his own best-friend-shaped impending doom. He steels himself and enters the room, praying (though not optimistically) that Blaise will already be asleep.

No such luck. Blaise is in bed with his back turned to Draco, but they've been rooming long enough for him to know when the prat is faking it.

"Not a word, Zabini," Draco says irritably, making his way towards his bed and beginning to undress.

"You're no fun," Blaise complains, turning to look back at him. He grins. "I was beginning to wonder if I needed to send out a search party. Get attacked by a vampire on your way in?"

Draco contemplates chucking the jumper he just removed at him, but instead turns and says, "Yes, and it was very traumatic, so I'd appreciate it if you would _shut your fucking mouth_ and never mention it again." Draco steps out of his shoes, socks, and trousers and crawls into bed gratefully.

"I just want to know if I should be concerned for my _own_ safety!"

"I'm going to bed now," Draco says flatly, tugging the covers over his head and rolling to face towards the wall.

"I don't exactly fancy waking up to you sucking my blood, you know?" Blaise continues, not deterred in the slightest.

"Not even a little bit? I'm hurt," Draco says, voice muffled by the covers. "Now shut up, I'd like to get _some_ sleep tonight."

"Why? Got a _busy_ day tomorrow?"

"Blaise," Draco warns.

"Alright, alright, I’ll let you get your beauty sleep." Blaise's bed creaks as he presumably readjusts into a proper sleeping position and Draco lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. 

Without the distraction of the conversation, however, the night's events flood back into the forefront of his mind. Harry's barely concealed noises during the dare, him not being able to keep his hands to himself. It seems laughable that at the beginning of the night, Draco hadn't even known Harry was into _blokes_ , let alone _him_.

And now? 

His stomach leaps.

Well, now he has a Hogsmeade late lunch date with the git. His heart races at the reminder, and he groans internally, wanting to kick himself for acting like a teenage girl the night before the Yule Ball.

His mind wanders further, and he catches snatches of sensations: a calloused hand on his cheek, a wicked tongue sliding against his, tingles where hair was pulled, whispered words and uneven breaths skating across his neck, the firm press of Harry's body against his, hot delicious friction.

He doesn't even try to stop the hand that dips below his waistband, merely using the other to grab his wand and throw up some half-assed privacy charms. He places his wand back on his nightstand then absently feels along his throat, flushing as he recalls the mouth that had been there not too long ago.

He rolls onto his back as his left hand continues to stroke his leaking cock, and when he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it's Harry's. He imagines a scenario where Harry decides to follow him back to his room instead. He can see the predatory glint in Harry's eyes as he pushes him back and crawls on top of him. He can almost hear him whispering filthy things in his ear as his hand quickens its pace.

He's spilling into his hand an embarrassingly short amount of time later, Harry's name falling shakily from his lips. He casts a quick cleaning spell, then, sated and relaxed, sleep finally claims him.

That night (though not unlike most other nights if he's being honest) he dreams of mischievous green eyes, scruffy black hair, and a private, fond smile that has him falling all over again.


End file.
